The Crime Of The Century Podcast

The Crime Of The Century Podcast

By Matt LoveTechnology
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The Crime Of The Century Podcast episodes

  • Japanese Heart by Lori Yamamoto
    ### Part I: The Seed (The Arrival)
    Good position, they say,
    keep accent low, they advise.
    Traffic jam, strange show.
    Japanese heart, a little lost.
    ### Part II: The First Unfolding (The Struggle)
    Good position, they say,
    keep accent low, they advise:
    I try to play my part,
    words memorized, but feel surprised.
    They say “resolve,” but problems deep,
    They say “remove,” but memories keep.
    I’m just here alone, a simple taste,
    Watching others, feeling displaced.
    ### Part III: The Second Unfolding (The City)
    I hear the city talk,
    language so precise, so sharp.
    Cool Angelinas, different life,
    I feel out of place, like a lonely bird.
    They say “out,” they say “remove,”
    like it’s easy, like it’s light.
    But for me, it’s just a song,
    a lonely tune in the night.
    ### Part IV: The Convergence (The Realization)
    They say “taste,” and I taste rain,
    feel a little lonely, a little pain.
    Simple life, simple taste,
    in this city, I find my place.
    ### Part V: The Coda (The Reflection)
    Yes, they say “taste,” and I taste rain,
    feel a little lonely, a little pain.
    Simple life, simple taste,
    in this city, I find my place.
    6 min
  • Language Lesson by Lori Yamamoto
    ### Part I: The Seed (The Beginning)
    I tried to learn English,  
    head clear, night bright.  
    Voice from the screen,  
    taught me a word, “blocked.”  
    ### Part II: The First Unfolding (The Lesson)
    I tried to learn English,  
    head clear, night bright:  
    “Blocked,” it said,  
    when you’re stuck, no step in sight.  
    It’s just a language lesson,  
    grammar in a glass,  
    with every beer,  
    awkward moments pass.  
    ### Part III: The Second Unfolding (The Struggle)
    The voice went on,  
    about having a goal,  
    to aim at something,  
    a project for the soul.  
    I wrote it down,  
    tried to say something deep,  
    then it said “Plastic,”  
    and I just looked away.  
    ### Part IV: The Convergence (The Realization)
    “This site aims to teach children,”  
    it drones, relentless,  
    I sit with my own,  
    little plastic bones.  
    “Unfortunately,” it whispers,  
    “our budget is not enough,”  
    and I can’t help but laugh,  
    ‘cause that’s the real stuff.  
    ### Part V: The Coda (The Resolution)
    Yes, my English gets better,  
    with a little bit of wine,  
    thoughts get so clear,  
    a perfect, straight, and simple line.  
    “Blocked” is how I feel,  
    when the budget is so low,  
    “Plastic” is a feeling,  
    where all the dreams can go.
    6 min
  • A Kingdom Just For Two by Lori Yamamoto
    ### Part I: The Seed (The Morning)
    Good morning, my love,  
    the day is young and bright.  
    Coffee too strong,  
    dishes undone, but it’s alright.  
    ### Part II: The First Unfolding (The Daily Ritual)
    Good morning, my love,  
    the day is young and bright:  
    My crown’s a messy bun,  
    my robe, a worn-out tee.  
    You look at me like I’m royalty.  
    We conquer the mail,  
    the pile of books on the floor,  
    And somehow, that feels like so much more.  
    ### Part III: The Second Unfolding (The Kingdom)
    Your words dance like a breeze,  
    soft and familiar, at ease.  
    You tell me of your day,  
    with a kind of nervous grace.  
    We laugh at tired jokes,  
    only we know, they never fade.  
    Sunlight on the dust,  
    as shadows softly grow.  
    I’m not brave, you’re not so strong,  
    but together, we belong.  
    ### Part IV: The Convergence (The Quiet Moments)
    In quiet moments,  
    when the world is fast asleep,  
    Your love is a secret,  
    I’ll forever keep.  
    No grand declarations,  
    no golden, shining light,  
    Just you and me, together,  
    in the darkness of the night.  
    ### Part V: The Coda (The Enduring Love)
    Here’s to mornings,  
    a mess and a new,  
    With you, my love,  
    a kingdom just for two.  
    You and me, forever,  
    yes, just me and you.
    6 min
  • Another Year Gone by Lori Yamamoto
    office lights buzz
    fireworks on the lawn outside
    another year gone
    quiet cubicle hums low
    screen glows on clean face
    coworkers whisper
    she’s polite, maybe a little odd
    no one sits close
    they leave early, lights dim slow
    she stays to breathe
    phone buzzes soft
    his words spill like warm coffee
    spark in pocket
    temporary truce at midnight
    daylight will turn cold
    miss the hallway
    keycard click, vending hum
    almost love glows
    empty frame on clean desk
    she keeps trying to fix it
    waiting delicate
    like rain before the break
    leaving hurts
    staying writes worse reports
    two-year wait text
    sent at 2 a.m., unread
    regret curls quiet
    secret waits in typing dots
    tonight’s plan vague
    just going home, elevator sighs
    screen glows lonely
    silent patient wait
    another night fades
    5 min
  • Fragrant Memories: The Tea Ceremony by Lori Yamamoto
    ### Part I: The Kernel (The Inhale)
    A wisp of scent,  
    Of pine and rain.  
    A ghost of smoke,  
    A neural lane.  
    ### Part II: The First Unfolding (The Steam)
    A wisp of scent, of pine and rain:  
    The water meets the leaves’ embrace.  
    A swirling, steaming, green-hued space.  
    The porcelain warms beneath my face.  
    I am here, in this quiet place.  
    A ghost of smoke, a neural lane:  
    It curls and climbs, a spectral thread.  
    It leads me from the light ahead,  
    To pathways in my heart instead.  
    A silent, sacred prayer is said.  
    ### Part III: The Second Unfolding (The Memory)
    The water meets the leaves’ embrace,  
    But it’s his hands I see, not mine.  
    A different porch, a different time.  
    The same slow, steeply, steeply climb  
    Of brewing some cheap, potent thyme.  
    He showed me how to hold the chime.  
    It leads me from the light ahead,  
    Back to the chatter and the din.  
    The rusty tin roof, caving in.  
    The world was small, contained within  
    The wisdom that he’d begin:  
    “This steam,” he’d say, with a giant’s grin,  
    “Holds all the places it’s been.”  
    ### Part IV: The Convergence (The Exhale)
    The porcelain cools within my hand.  
    I understand.  
    I understand.  
    The wisp of scent was not a ghost,  
    But just a bridge from coast to coast.  
    A thread that weaves through time the most.  
    He is the smoke, and I’m the tea,  
    Infused with what he gave to me.  
    In this quiet space, I clearly see:  
    The ceremony’s not just a brew,  
    It’s a fragrant memory of you.  
    And every steep makes my soul anew.  
    ### Part V: The Coda (The Scent Fades)
    A wisp of scent.  
    A neural lane.  
    It blooms again.  
    And blooms again.
    6 min
  • A Folded Shape by Lori Yamamoto
    A folded shape, a secret kept,
    On woven bamboo, softly set.
    A truth unseen, not revealed yet.
    A folded shape, a secret kept,
    In swirling, scented clouds that wept
    From kitchen fires where masters slept.
    The rhythm starts, a constant, steady step.
    On woven bamboo, softly set,
    A fragile world of dui and net,
    A silent, promising duet
    Between the hungry and the unmet.
    A truth unseen, not revealed yet,
    But felt in heat and silhouette,
    A whispered, savory coronet.
    The moment hangs, a lifetime in a bet.
    In swirling, scented clouds that wept...
    I see the years of joy and grief I’ve accepted.
    Each doubt and fear I’ve neatly kept,
    Like fillings, finely chopped and prepped.
    We are all parcels of the lives we’ve sculpted.
    A silent, promising duet...
    Between the person that I am and the one I try to be.
    This hunger isn’t just for meat,
    But for a truth that’s bittersweet:
    To be unfolded, and be complete.
    The moment hangs, a lifetime in a bet...
    I lift the morsel, thin and fine.
    The outer layer, a design,
    Gives way to something more divine.
    The first taste is not yours, but mine.
    I choose to open. I choose to dine.
    To unwrap my own and call it... divine.
    A folded shape, a secret kept,
    On woven bamboo, softly set.
    A truth unseen, now fully met.
    4 min

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Better than a chicken jumping rope backwards!